


"The History of Life of A Most Noble Maiden, Nathyara Cousland of Highever, The Hero of Ferelden and Victor of The Fifth Blight" by Vartrand Petrice.

by AnneMayfair



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 23:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6133756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneMayfair/pseuds/AnneMayfair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The popular biography of Nathyara Cousland, also known as Hero of Ferelden, has been published in 9:40 Dragon in Kirkwall, based on stories and information carefully gathered by Brother Vartrand Petrice. A close friend of Fereldan refugees, Brother Petrice became fascinated with the unusual life of the Maker’s Chosen, and spent almost a decade preparing The Warden’s most complete biography.<br/>An immediate hit among the people, this beautiful work is being praised for its truthfulness and pleasant style of narration. Brother Petrice delivered us the most compelling work on The Warden’s journey from its very start to its very end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"The History of Life of A Most Noble Maiden, Nathyara Cousland of Highever, The Hero of Ferelden and Victor of The Fifth Blight" by Vartrand Petrice.

**Author's Note:**

> This is me trying my hand at something. Some of the characters mentioned in the tags will appear only in later chapters.

  _“A weary traveler sits down on a bench. His coat is covered in mud up to his waist. At his feet finds rest an old hound. With a smile, the stranger produces a flask. He waves it at the statue in front of him, cheering, and drinks half of it at once. All others around him nod respectfully at this man. After all, townspeople of Redcliffe are used to those who come here to pay respects to Hero of Ferelden._

_But the statue erected in Redcliffe does little justice to the woman who stood here years ago. An old lady in a shack by the water knows more of her deeds, of her presence, of her valor. But making a journey to Redcliffe to hear her story is hardly everyone’s forte; with that in mind, I take it upon myself to relay here all I know of the legendary Warden._

_Read this tale, dear reader, and when you are done, raise a mug in her name. There are few who deserve this honor, but without that woman, neither you nor I would be alive today._

 

**Book One. In Pieace, Vigilance.**

_**Chapter One. Childhood and Adolescence.** _

_In which The Warden is born and raised. Years 9:06-9:19._

 

She who later came to be known as The Warden, Champion of Redcliffe, Paragon of Orzammar, Friend to the Elves, Patron to Denerim Alienage, and the Hero of Ferelden, came to this life like any other human.

Not an ordinary human was she. Her father was Bryce Cousland, Teyrn of Highever, defender of Denerim. His rule was wise and just, and blooming fields of his domain gave generously to his subjects. Not a stranger to common man’s needs, Teyrn Bryce was often described as wicked by his partners at the Landsmeet. It is not usual for a man of his standing to personally supervise the head-count of livestock, to review management of public barns. And it is certainly uncommon now for a nobleman to keep his treasury open to men and women in need.

Even brighter was his wife, Teyrna of Highever. Eleanor Mac Earnaig by maiden name, Eleanor Cousland by marriage, the Seawolf of the Storm Coast, whose fairness was matched by her ferocity in battle. Her presence would often scare those who have injustice of deeds hidden in their hearts. Teyrna’s piercing gaze, as I was told, would strike one’s very soul. By the time The Warden was born, Teyrna had sheathed her swords and tucked away her quiver. This did not, however, prevent her from being the force that ruled Highever. Firm in her beliefs and judgment, Teyrna Eleanor was greatly respected by her subjects, and feared by those who opposed the Couslands.

When The Warden was born, the Couslands already had a son – a healthy young boy with his father’s features, Fergus. In secret, Teyrna hoped for a son to fulfill the old “heir and a spare” tradition of nobility. And in 9:06 Dragon Teyrna proudly felt a spark of Maker’s light glowing in her womb. Rejoiced, Teyrn and Teyrna kept the pregnancy a secret to avoid curses and hexes, and prepared to name their next son Fearchar, in memory of Teyrna’s most excellent father.

But on 27th night of month so aptly named Guardian, Teyrna Eleanor brought to this world a girl. But something moved in the soul of Teyrna, and when Teyrn Bryce entered her chambers to cut the cord of the child, instead of a richly decorated pillow his wife gave him a sword. With understanding in his eyes, Teyrn Bryce raised his own blade, and cut the cord, as nannies whispered in the corners of ill omens. Thus, the newborn girl’s life was destined to be that not of a gentle lady, but of a fierce warrior.

When six months passed, and neither Maker nor Fade claimed the life of this child, she was given a name. In the presence of friends and vassals, the Revered Mother blessed her as “Nathyara”. But by tradition of Couslands’ friends from Orlais, the child was given far too many names by any measurement. Orlesians, as I am told, believe that doing so prevents demons from haunting a child. I know not if it is true, but the Couslands seemed to take that tradition seriously. In full, the child’s name sounded as “ _ **Nathyara Evelyn Galatea Victoria Paloma Eugenie Felicia Alfstanna Darima Wilhelmine Alexandrina Cousland**_ ”. If I had trouble writing that name down, demons would certainly be confused as to who those people are.

With her birth and blessings already being rather unusual for Fereldans, Teyrna Eleanor later insisted that Nathyara is brought up in a fashion similar to that of their son, Fergus. Many were worried that a warmaiden would find no husband, as evil tongued whispered behind Teyrn Bryce’s back. But Teyrn himself never doubted his wife’s decisions. And in that he proved himself to be smarter than many men of his time.

A bright and happy child, the future Warden was lovingly called “Natty” by her family and friends. Purity of her childhood did not last long, however, as nobility obliged. From the age of four, the day of a young lady was divided into two parts. From the wee hours of the morning till mid-day, she was training hard with swordmasters and their apprentices. In the second half of the day till nightfall, Teyrna Eleanor spent her time schooling her daughter in ways of sciences and noble duties.

A lady I located in the port of Highever, who wished to be known by the name of Pollinarina, produces a blanket in front of me. Delicate embroidery in gold thread spells out the initials of The Warden’s name. Stroking it with affection, the lady tells me about the times she served at Castle Cousland as a handmaiden to Teyrna Eleanor:

“ _Every day Teyrn and Teyrna would rise before the dawning sun and commit to their duties. I was young back then, and helped Teyrna with nothing more but making Teyrna’s will to be known to other servants. Milady objected against handmaidens that would dress her, do her hair. As Teyrn and young master Fergus would leave for the battlements, Teyrna would spend some time with young mistress Nathyara._

_She dressed her daughter herself, with handmaidens merely opening drawers of armoires for her convenience. I still remember laughter and smiles they exchanged, with Teyrna often tickling young mistress as they spent their early mornings together._

_When Lady Nathyara became a bit older, she would speak to us, servants. She was closer to us even more than Milady. I remember how after one night, I was crying in a corner, hoping nobody would see me. But young mistress did. When I opened my eyes, she gave me a honey tartlet, smiled, and ran away. Young mistress was sunshine itself._ ”

 Such moments of kindness were not rare in Castle Cousland. More often than not the nobles found greatness and generosity in their souls to help those in need. Charity in the name of the Maker has been a part of their lives, and young Nathyara partook in her family’s honorable deeds from a very young age.

Such was her life till she became a child of ten. In a few years time, she could be betrothed and married, and Teyrna Eleanor grew worried of her daughter’s future in marriage. Afraid that she would find no suitor with her free temper, she negotiated with her friend, Lady Landra, to take Nathyara with her to Orlais for summer months. There, she hoped, the young lady would be educated like a modern lady of higher standing.

I have very little sources on Warden’s life in Orlais during the summer months. It is known, however, that it is then young Nathyara acquired her skills in ways of diplomacy. By 9:18 Dragon, the youngest Cousland became rather famous among the nobility. Her mother’s fairness and ferocity became refined, and her sword was seemingly sheathed. Her training shifted from strength of warriors to the cunning of aristocracy.

In the year of 9:19 Dragon, Teyrn and Teyrna Cousland knew it was time to answer the many inquiries about their daughter. Never such decisions come easily. This was no exception. With Teyrna in charge, the Couslands announced that it was time to secure Lady Nathyara’s position in life by betrothing her hand in marriage. With that, they also announced something rather new: the final choice would be made by Lady Nathyara herself.

While one may wonder how one can decide their fate at mere 13 summers old, I ask: how can a parent choose a spouse not knowing their child’s soul? Even Pollinarina shakes her head and tells me the Couslands trusted each other too much. I, however, beg to differ.

The wisdom of those decisions showed itself barely a fortnight afterwards. As many ambassadors to the Couslands recall, Lady Nathyara spent her evenings sitting beside her mother in the Grand Hall of their castle. With careful politeness and calculated kindness, they examined and measured candidates and ambassadors who came to ask for her hand.

As it seems it was only partially a ceremony of choosing a partner. In a greater way, it was a new subject young Nathyara needed to master. With her mother’s support, she would learn to see people’s hidden wishes, their weaknesses, their fears. Teyrna Eleanor taught her to see and discern cowards from brash-minded men. It was then when Lady Nathyara knew who spoke truth and who was a liar”-

**_“Merde!”_ **

Leliana leaned back in her chair. Her eyes continued to glide across the pages. A smile was playing on her lips as she silently repeated the words. She barely suppressed her laughter. The author was so close to the sources, but he failed to see what was truly important.

That evening Leliana suddenly remember one of the talks she had with the Warden years ago. Back in the day she talked a lot. Nathyara suddenly unveiled her knowledge of Val Royeaux districts and several households. To Leliana’s surprise, she spoke of them as if she herself knew it all. When Leliana gently inquired about it, the Warden simply said:

“I used to spend my summers there with my Mother’s friend,” her eyes glistening with a naughty spark. “Learned quite a few things from local ladies.”

“Such as?” Leliana innocently continued. Her insides were twisting into a knot as she dreaded to hear the words. She wished not to think of her dear friend as of someone who played The Game.

“Mostly fashion,” the Warden shrugged. “Also poisons. Way of hiding knives that nobody would ever find them on me. And, of course, my first kiss happened in Val Royeaux.”

“Ah,” Leliana brightened up. With apprehension she decided to add: “I wonder which of your noble friends made away with the taste of your lips. Must have been a very lucky man.”

“It was a woman,” laughed Nathyara, and Leliana knew her stomach made an upside-down flip. “Her name was Iona. She was a handmaiden of my mother’s friend. We were… close. Very close.”

“I see,” said Leliana, hoping that her voice did not change its tone. “You had quite the exciting life in Orlais.”

“Not as exciting as others of my age,” the Warden tucked away her whetstone and produced a bottle of oil from her backpack. “Truth be told, I never quite understood the thrill of the Game everyone played. Seemed like an awful waste of time.”

That one phrase was spoken so honestly and calmly that it left little doubt in Leliana. The Warden never played the Game, and never bothered to even learn its rules. Summers in Orlais have definitely enriched her mind, but it wasn’t enough to corrupt her. With relief, Leliana smiled widely, and once again glanced at the sleek black hair of the Warden.

She missed that woman so much.


End file.
